For my seventh birthday, I was gifted my first-ever CD. It was a copy of “Red” by Taylor Swift, and I spent every waking moment memorizing the lyrics and singing along with catchy tracks like “The Lucky One” or “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” The lyrics and style of her music made me dream of what life would be like as a singer, and I ultimately decided that becoming a pop star was the life I wanted to live. 

     When I had the opportunity to share this ambition with the rest of my first-grade class, I decided that becoming a singer was unrealistic, and I should be considering more practical fields to pursue. I was given the task of illustrating my future career, and looking at my peers’ drawings depicting doctors, teachers, and lawyers made me feel intimidated to share my real passion, which seemed so silly in comparison. 

     I picked up my markers and colored pencils and wrote veterinarian underneath the colorful portrait I had drawn. I signed my name at the bottom and handed the assignment in to my teacher, who hung it up on the wall alongside the rest of the class’s artwork.

     As a kid, although thinking about adulthood is scary and foreign, there’s an expectation that as time goes on, things become more certain. I wasn’t sure where I wanted my future to go, but knew that one day, I’d figure it out. “Don’t worry about it, you still have time,” is a phrase that has been repeated to me on countless occasions throughout elementary, middle and high school whenever I said I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do after graduation. 

     Although at the time this was reassuring to hear, it established the idea that time was something I wouldn’t have forever, and I would have to have it all figured out eventually. Filling out my college applications, this idea has been weighing on me because it feels like that time has run out–but I still don’t know where I want to go or what I want to do for the rest of my life.

     Over the past year, rather than people telling me, “You have time,” the discourse surrounding future plans seemed to shift towards “Where have you already applied?” Or “What is your major going to be?” 

     Becoming comfortable with the uncertainty that the future holds has been difficult, and talking to my peers and friends has helped me to become less fearful. It has shown me that uncertainty is normal, and especially as a young adult, important in discovering what I want to do with my life. Many of my classmates have expressed similar feelings, and it’s comforting to understand that not everybody has a clear plan for the future.